Badlands and Beyond
by RagingContent
Summary: Just a bunch of drabble-ish writings for RejectedShotgun's Haunting/Haunted series. This is a challenge, so I'll be writing this the best I can, as much as I can (remember).
1. RULES and 1

**Hello, my batty cats! Welcome... To Badlands and Beyond!**

**This a new writing challenge that I'm making, where I'm going to see how many Haunted shorts I can write in a row ****_without _****slacking off on my writing.**

**I really wanna get to the writing... But first, the rules!**

_**1. I must publish at least one drabble a day. I can publish more than one daily, but I MUST have one for each day.**_

_**2. The word I base the drabble on is randomly generated.**_

_**3. Each drabble must be at least 200 words long.**_

**Annnnnd that's it! So, here's the first one, based on one of my favorite characters :)**

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><p><span><em><strong>Trade<strong>_

He doesn't see the light of opportunity in the merchant's eyes. All he sees is a small-time trader, desperately trying to make some money.

So he trades. He knows nothing could go wrong, right?

_Did you hear,_ the merchant says, _that someone's stolen something important from the Emperor?_ Bringing up gossip, obviously just another Empire citizen. The blonde's eyes skirt past the trader's mismatched ones, instead watching the people walking past him, bumping his backpack as they chatter.

He walks away, satisfied with the supplies that he just bought. His green eyes dart warily around the crowded marketplace, as if he's searching for _the one person _that could be able to harm him - the people in charge here, the people he hates. Someone that could steal everything that he has.

He doesn't know, but the lowly merchant has also stolen something from him. The dark-haired seller snickers as he turns and walks the other way, with three freshly-stolen platinum coins in his pocket.

Oh, the wonders of this _modern _civilization, and the glory of Trade.

He'd never trade again. He'd only take what was needed, not only for his own well-being, but for the citizens themselves.

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><p><strong>I dunno how good that was. Review, and tell me that I've done good?<strong>

**-RC**


	2. 2

**The second one. Enjoy :D**

**NOTE: Well, as it turns out, my internet did a big fat flop and didn't upload this when I tried yesterday. So, here it is today!**

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><p><strong><span><em>Accident<em>**

It was all an accident, how he'd left a friend behind. But he couldn't remember most of it.

Murky darkness, caused by whirling snow and thick clouds, restricted most of the sun's light from finding the ground. Then, the only light was a flashlight and the small, piercing red light on the other's camera. Though boots crunched through deep snowbanks, barely any words were exchanged.

Where do you think he is, the one asks.

I don't know, you respond. He was supposed to come back hours ago.

As you friend cracks a joke, something about polar bears, you're barely listening. Instead, you're staring at the ground outside the rig.

You barely comprehend what you're seeing. It takes you a few moments to realize what the red splashes are.

And then you're running up the stairs, screaming his name.

But he's gone, and you both know that. Especially when you see the third person, barely visible on top of a tall ice cliff.

And that's the last you see of your friend. You've already taken off running.

The confusion in his blue eyes is the last thing you see.

And then you're back at the base, shuddering, your mind already forgetting the events that've just occured. But you'll never forget his name.

It's still above the room that used to be his.

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><p>All those thoughts run through your head as he aims an arrow at you, his new orange eye burning with rage.<p>

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><p><strong>Feel free to hate :3<strong>

**-RC**


	3. 3

**Another one! Enjoy :D**

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><p><span><em><strong>Shout<strong>_

According to him, a shout was always good-natured. Happy, even. All his life, back in the old modern world, all the shouting had been joking, trying to get his attention.

But _this _one had made him scared. Because they knew he had it.

The shouts of his pursuers drew ever closer, making him shiver in fear. He always knew how to react to a situation, just by how people decided to come after him. So, when he heard the mob coming, he grabbed anything useful, within arm's reach, in his room. And he ran like Hell.

Hearing the crowd stop at his house, he kept going, a bead of cold sweat at the back of his neck. He had barely ever run so hard, so he was forced to take a break by the time he reached the edge of the city.

Then a fear rooted him to the ground, nearly made him turn back.

He hadn't warned his family.

A shout of panic echoed in his mind, screaming at him, forcing him to go back. But this time, he kept to the shadows, like the criminal he was.

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><p><strong>-RC<strong>


End file.
